


Two Strangers

by fanfoolishness (LoonyLupin), LoonyLupin



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst, F/M, Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-31
Updated: 2015-03-31
Packaged: 2018-03-20 13:11:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3651615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoonyLupin/pseuds/fanfoolishness, https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoonyLupin/pseuds/LoonyLupin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Former Grand Enchanter Fiona finds herself in Skyhold at the same time as a young Warden, and she shares a secret she swore she would never tell.  Alistair writes to his wife, Dis Brosca, for advice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Strangers

**Author's Note:**

> Much thanks to APaintedScorpionDoll and TheLadyW for advice on this :)

Fiona settled into her favorite chair in the library, having found a book on ancient magics of Tevinter.  The impertinent Tevinter mage Dorian had offered it to her when she had asked, though he had sniffed that it was lacking in anything important.  Still, though, she felt it would be useful to learn.

A pair of scouts shuffled into the alcove nearest her, pulling out reports from their knapsacks over the small table by the windowsill.  Their voices were nowhere near hushed enough for Fiona’s liking, and she could not help but listen to them.

“That new Warden’s settling in, I hear.”

“The one who could have been the King, yes?  Always thought it a bit odd he turned it down.  What’s his name again?”

“Warden Alistair.  I heard he liked it with the Wardens better, no court to preside over and all that lot.  I think I’d do the same in his shoes.”

“I thought it was that he didn’t want to leave the Hero of Ferelden.  Can you imagine the King of Ferelden with a Warden dwarf mistress?  They’re married, now, I think.”

“He seems a good sort.  If we only knew what the other Wardens were up to,” one of them said as they left the alcove and ascended the stairs to the spymaster’s quarters.  Fiona set her book down.  Her hands trembled slightly as she remembered her son’s squalling face, the day his blue eyes changed to hazel, the first strands of reddish hair she smoothed down with a kiss.

The Maker certainly had a sense of humor, she had to admit.

 

* * *

 

She found him in the tavern a few days later.  She had not been sleeping well.  She had gone back and forth on what to do, watching the young man from a distance.  He looked so much like his father, tall and broad-shouldered, faint freckles scattered on his cheeks, even the way he spoke with his hands reminded her of Maric.  One would never guess his mother had been an elf, except maybe — if you looked for it — the slight way his ears stuck out a little more than a human’s would, the edge of them slightly pointed.  But it was not enough for even him to have noticed, unless he already knew.  And he did not.  She had made sure of that.

She stood in the tavern’s entrance, catching sight of him.  She closed her eyes for just a moment.  For so long she had forced herself not to wonder what had become of him.  She had refused to ask what his childhood had been like, if it was happy, if he had missed her.  She had prayed to the Maker to watch over him, but had not allowed herself to wonder what she had done.

But perhaps this opportunity should be taken.

He was seated at the bar, an empty stool beside him.  He was working at a plate of steak pie, sitting a little apart from everyone else.  She wondered if he had always been a loner, or if this was new.

“Excuse me,” she murmured.  “Do you mind if I take this seat?”

Alistair glanced up at her, and she saw Maric in his eyes and his startled smile, heard him in the young man’s voice.  “Of course not,” he said.  “Be my guest, er…”  He looked hard at her.  “Do I know you?”

“Ah — not exactly,” Fiona said.  “You may have seen me before.  I am Fiona.  I was once the Grand Enchanter of the Circle of Magi.”

“Yes, of course,” he said.  “I thought you looked familiar.  Pleasure to meet you.  I’m Alistair Theirin.  You might have guessed I’m a Grey Warden,” he said, looking down at his uniform.  She smiled at the silver griffon on his chest, memories coming back to her.

“Actually, I was a Warden myself once,” she said hesitantly.  “But something happened to me, and the Joining was reversed.”

“I’ve heard about that,” said Alistair, sitting upright.  “That was you?  You — do you hear the Calling, then?”  He winced suddenly, slightly shaking his head as if hearing something she could not.

“I have never heard it, no,” she said.  “But I have heard that the Wardens are hearing something now.”

Alistair sighed.  “Yes.  It seems Corypheus is trying to convince us all it’s time to go down to the Deep Roads.  It’s unpleasant, to say the least.  But my wife is trying to find a permanent solution to the Calling.”  His face brightened up at the mention of her.

“You are happy with her?” Fiona asked gently.  

“Are you kidding?” Alistair asked, shocked, his eyebrows nearly disappearing into his hairline.  He was so  _expressive_!  That was certainly not like her.  “She’s the love of my life.  I know plenty of people say that, sure, but I truly mean it.  Dis has been everything to me, and every day I’m grateful for her.”  He laughed.  “Hawke says I need to stop waxing poetic about her to everyone I meet, but honestly, I can’t help it.”  He looked wistful.  “I miss her terribly.  I hope she finds an answer soon.  For both our sakes.”

“I would be happy to tell you everything I can about how I lost my abilities as a Warden,” Fiona said.  “It may help in her search.”

“That would be most appreciated,” said Alistair.  “Is that what you came to speak with me about?  I admit, I’ve noticed you sort of watching me the past few days.”

“That is part of it,” Fiona said.  She looked at his face.  He was beginning to get crow’s feet, now, and there were small scars on his face and neck that suggested frequent battle.  He had made it this far without her.  Perhaps she did not need to do what she was considering.

“What’s the other part?”

Fiona looked down at her hands.  She closed her eyes, steeling herself.  

“Are — are you all right?” he asked, his voice gentle.  In his concern she could hear something of herself, and she was seized with a heavy ache in her chest, one she had not let herself feel for nearly thirty years.

“I am sorry,” she said, opening her eyes.  The young man — the Warden — _her son_  — was watching her with a kind look on his face, and she felt tired of the lie she’d carried for so long.  “Alistair, I have something to say that will be difficult for you to hear.”

He looked confused.  “I don’t understand.”

“I…”  His hazel eyes searched hers and she swallowed.  “I am your mother.”

 

* * *

 

_3 Solace, 9:41 Dragon_

_Dear Dis,_

_Hello, my darling.  Still miss you.  I hope you’ve settled in well, wherever this finds you.  I’m at the Inquisition’s fortress at Skyhold, awaiting more help before we march onward.  Another day, another disaster.  There’s always something, it seems._

_Hawke’s here and she sends her love, of course.  She kept Anders away since apparently he and Corypheus don’t get on.  Join the party, I said, but she said it’s worse for him.  She worries so about him.  I know it weighs on her.  She and Anders would have liked to visit with you again, maybe the next time the world’s in mortal peril.  She also said to remind you that Anders will always be grateful to you for Ser Pounce-a-lot.  (She said that bit was important and I had better include it or else.  I suppose we must all give our regards to Ser Pounce-a-lot.)_

_Leliana’s here too.  Maker’s breath, but it’s almost like old times again.  Leliana gave me a huge hug when she saw me.  She has mostly moved past being so bright and cheery and now she’s much more ready to cut your throat if you look at her wrong.  The only consolation is she’ll do it secretly.  I suppose she always was that way beneath the cheeriness but it’s a little disconcerting.  She says she misses you though and would love to see you.  She’s the spymaster for the Inquisition, got her agents out all over.  You’ll have met one of her ravens carrying this letter.  She’s got a fleet of them.  Armada?  Flock?  I can’t remember the right word for it, I’m sure it will come to me later._

_There’s more, and I don’t quite know how to say it.  I suppose I’ll just be out with it._

_My mother’s alive.  Yes, the one that supposedly died.  She’s here in Skyhold helping the Inquisition.   Turns out I’m half an elf (!) and Goldanna was never really my sister.  I’m a bit relieved about that bit, anyway, considering how well things went in Denerim.  Don’t know what to think about the elf part.  I guess that explains the way my ears have always stuck out rather…_

_But how’s that for an eye-opener?_

_Dis, I… don’t know what to make of it.  Her name is Fiona.  She’s an elven mage.  She was the Grand Enchanter and before that, she was a Grey Warden — but now she isn’t one.  No more taint.  No Calling.  She’s explained it to me and it doesn’t really make sense.  I’m sending you a statement she wrote about it though, I hope it will help your research.  Maybe there’s hope for you and me after all.  Maker knows I’ve got to hold on to that._

_As to how this all happened with Fiona — my mother — Maker but it’s strange to write that— it seems she and King Maric had an affair back when she was a Warden, and things happened, as they tend to do.  I can see we’re related; her eyes are the same shape as mine, she and I share the same crooked front tooth, and she’s told me things about myself as a baby that only Arl Eamon knew, like the time I had colic and kept the whole castle up all night, or the way I always slept with this blanket she had made for me.  Apparently it was she who insisted I be told that she was human and had died, but all along she was out there, and I never knew._

_I asked her about the amulet, the one you found for me.  She barely remembered it, said it was just an old bit of jewelry she had left behind.  There was nothing special to it at all._

_I don’t know what to think._

_I wish you were here._

_Sometimes I want to curse this whole blasted mess to the void and just run off to find you.  Leave the world to deal with Corypheus on their own, leave the Wardens to dig themselves out of whatever awful thing they’ve gotten into.  They should have had you in charge instead of Clarel years ago, my love.  I know you’d have sorted things right from the beginning._

_But I know I can’t turn my back on them, no matter how misguided they’ve become.  I’ve got to do my part to set this right.  It won’t be easy for any of us.  The Inquisitor’s working her hardest on this and I see the way she runs herself ragged.  I think you and she would like each other.  She’s a Dalish mage, has some funny ideas but gets the job done the right way.  She’s a good sort, we could have used her around back during the Blight._

_Here’s a funny thing.  You could have knocked me over with a feather about this but Inquisitor Lavellan’s quite fond of someone we used to know — that templar Cullen Rutherford, from Ferelden’s Circle during the Blight.  You know the fellow, magically imprisoned, half-mad, tried to get us to kill all the mages?  I guess he’s better now.  Not a templar anymore, either.  Stopped the lyrium and everything.  He doesn’t look as bad as some of the older templars did, though I’ve caught him going all shaky once or twice in the war room.  Lyrium’s a nasty business even when you’ve quit it.  I’m glad he managed to get out when he did, it sounds dreadful.  Thank blessed Andraste I never took my vows._

_Cullen’s in charge of the Inquisition’s forces, doing a bang-up job of it too.  He and the Inquisitor hold hands sometimes when walking around the keep.  That’s right, a mage and a former templar.  No stranger than a bastard prince and a casteless dwarf, I suppose.  I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make me miss you more.  
_

_I remembered what to call Leliana’s bird army!  It’s an_ unkindness _of ravens.  Bit creepy really._

_You’ve probably noticed I stopped writing about this whole my mother business.  I couldn’t bear to think on it more so I started rambling about other things.  I’m sure you saw that coming from a mile away.  You know me too well, of course._

_When I think back to how much I missed her as a child I get — I think I’m angry.  I don’t know.  Sort of heartsick, too, if I’m to be honest.  I want to be happy about it.  As a boy I used to dream of something like this, finding out my mother was still alive, realizing my parents really did want me after all.  You know how children dream.  Foolish things.  I always thought if she was really out there somewhere I’d be happy when I found her.  But I have more questions than anything else and she can’t always answer them.  Why, I ask, why all of this — and she can’t, or won’t, tell me.  It’s Denerim all over again._

_~~It makes me — I feel so sm— this isn’t like I thought it would be~~ _

_Sorry for the scratches.  And the smudges.  It’s — never mind, it’s not important._

_I don’t know what else to say about it, Dis, so I won’t keep trying.  There’s a sodding war on, after all, mad darkspawn on the loose, Wardens gone insane, demons run amok.  I’ve got plenty else to keep my mind on._

_Like you.  I love you, Dis.  The fact there’s all these leagues between us is — well, all right, it’s a bit infuriating — but it doesn’t change how I feel about you.  I think all this mess would be a great deal easier to bear if only you were here.  I could kiss you again.  Maker’s breath, but I do miss your mouth.  And your smile.  And the way you look when you try not to laugh at my awful jokes, I miss that too.  I wish I could take down your braids and run my fingers through your soft hair.  I’d kiss the tip of your nose and your brand and your forehead and your scars and everywhere I could think of._

_I’d kiss naughtier places, too, like between your perfect breasts, or the part where your waist nips inward, or the curve of your delightful hips.  Or maybe between your legs where you’re so sweet and wet and ah, I’m going to need to take care of myself if I keep thinking of the way you taste…_

_Oh, Maker knows I won’t be able to think of anything else now.  It’s your own fault, you know, being so beautiful.  If you could see me now I’m in my bunk, stroking myself and whispering your name the way I would all those years ago, back when we were in that cramped little tent aching for each other, trying to be quiet so the others wouldn’t hear the gasps and moans._

_I wish it was your hand instead of mine, you always know just the right way to touch me to make me squirm.  I’m thinking of our last night together and that devious look in your eye when you climbed atop me.  And the way it felt to be inside you — the way you said my name… Maker’s breath —_

_Ahem._

_Moving on._

_If anyone has intercepted this letter and has made it this far I hope you’re blushing, pervert.  Though if it’s Leliana, I know you won’t bat an eye._

_As for you, Dis, the next time I see you we will have to take care of some very important matters.  Grey Warden matters.  Secret ones.  Involving a lot of private meetings and any spare surface we can find._

_But at any rate, love… the world calls again.  ‘Alistair,’ it says, ‘I’m all cocked up, you’ve got to come and put me to rights.’  And I say ‘Oh bother, can’t I just go back to bed’ and the world says ‘No, I’ll really be destroyed this time if you don’t come help, honest.’  You know how it is.  Of course you do, you’re always saving the world yourself.  Just one of the things I love about you._

_I’ll write again as soon as I can.  I’m looking forward to your next letter.  Give Dhargus a proper pat on the head from me and tell him I’ll see him soon, the great lug._

_As always, all my love,_

_Alistair_

* * *

_20 Solace, 9:41 Dragon_

_To my Alistair,_

_I’m so sorry I’m not there._

_Sorry doesn’t even feel like a big enough word for it, Alistair.  In a thousand years I never expected this to happen, and I know you didn’t, either.  I can only imagine what you’re feeling right now.  I know you, dear — as you pointed out! — and I’m sure you only wrote a fraction of what you felt.  Sod it all, but I miss you and wish I could be there to be what you need._

_You know I’m not the best person to ask about family things.  Mother was so drunk and damaged, and still is, that I have no idea what it would be like to find her after thirty years.  I can’t even imagine what this feels like._

_But you did nothing wrong.  You were a child.  She’s the one who left you.  You have every bloody right to be angry or sad or ecstatic or confused or whatever else you might be feeling.  If anything’s wrong, it’s what she did, leaving you.  You should ask all the questions you feel comfortable with.  And if you don’t want to speak to her, that’s all right, too.  By the Stone but she’s got a lot to answer for, and if you decide it’s too difficult to hear what she’s got to say, you should do whatever you need to do to make it through this._

_If you still want to hold onto her amulet, you should.  It’s yours and it means whatever you wish it to mean.  It was still hers regardless.  Don’t let her memory of it alter what it’s meant to you._

_I don’t know what to say, either.  Except that I want to stuff the biggest hug I can muster into this parchment and it’s not working.  Please use your imagination.  And if you’re doing that, feel free to imagine a horde of kisses as well._

_I love you, Alistair.  No matter how buggered the world gets, that will always be true._

_You mentioned some other surprising things in your letter.  I’m glad Hawke is with you.  I know she’ll do her best to look after you, and you for her.  I would have liked to have seen her and Anders too.  No matter what happened in Kirkwall I’ll always remember Anders and that blighted cat of his.  Never understood the creature myself but that cat really did bring out the best in him.  Tell them to be careful._

_Especially given that damned Corypheus and that **singing**  of his.  Whenever it’s quiet it settles into my ears and buzzes all round inside my skull.  It’s getting louder.  I expect it is for you too.  I try to hum to block it out.  Wish I could sing worth a damn but it’s better than nothing._

_I can’t believe the reports you’ve sent me of what the Wardens are doing.  It breaks my heart.  Makes me want to stab something, too.  Or lots of things.  You know how I feel about stabbing things, the more the merrier._

_I’m getting closer to finding out about the Calling here, and if I can get it sorted I’ll be with you in a flash to set things right.  Dis and Alistair, off to save the world again.  Forget Hero of Ferelden, we’ll be the big damn Heroes of All Thedas.  Or something like that._

_Send my love to Leliana.  I miss her singing, though it sounds like she has other things to worry about these days.  Please tell her to be careful.  I know she’s clever but I do worry about her sometimes.  I don’t want her to let the world catch her up completely in all the awful things it’s got, you know?  I still want her to sing, now and then._

_I’m glad the Inquisition is in capable hands.  If you’re able to help them once the Wardens have been dealt with, you should, and I’ll do my part as soon as I can manage it._

_I admit I just about spat my tea out when I saw the bit about Rutherford and the mage Inquisitor.  I don’t know if it’s the Maker or the Stone but someone’s laughing somewhere about that one.  I’m glad he’s changed, though.  After what we saw in the Fade in that tower, I don’t want to think about what must have happened to him.  It can’t have been easy to come through that still sane._

_As for leaving the templars, I’ll thank the Maker myself for the fact you never started taking lyrium.  I don’t even want to think about it._

_I’ve had a chance to look into Fiona’s account of what happened to her Warden abilities.  I think it will really help!  I need to find some of our mages to run through it with me and see what we can glean but this could help tremendously, Alistair.  If nothing else I will need to thank her for it.  Even if I want to throttle her for what she’s put you through._

_I still don’t have any words of wisdom for you.  (Me, words of wisdom?  Yes, it makes me laugh too.)  But my thoughts are with you, wherever you are, and I will return to you as soon as I am able._

_Especially after that last bit in your letter!  Somebody got a bit excited, I think.  And by somebody I would say me.  I miss every bit of you too, you know.  The width of your shoulders, the muscles in your arms, those freckles on your cheeks, that thing you do with your eyebrows when you’re making a joke, and that smile of yours.  And of course things further south, too.  Let’s just say that the next time I see you I’m going to tear your armor off, buckles be damned, and toss your smallclothes out the window just so I can get at you.  Won’t matter if we’re alone or not.  I can’t decide if I’d rather take you into my mouth first, or climb on top of you and ride you until you can’t see straight, but either way you’ll be in for quite the fucking.  If I make it to Skyhold we’ll probably send half the Inquisition running (the other half will probably want to listen in, because let’s face it, you and I do good work together)._

_I can’t wait to get you to myself again, and believe me, I am getting mighty tired of my hand.  We’ve become very good friends since you’ve been gone but I’d much rather have you hard and deep within me, my legs wrapped around your waist in that way you like.  I miss how you fuck me, Ser Theirin, and it has been **FAR TOO LONG**._

_That’s all I’m saying._

_I love you, Alistair.  I should get to sleep; there’s a long day ahead in the morning, sod it all.  But know I’ll be thinking of you.  I always am._

_Whatever you wish to do with what Fiona has told you, you know I will support you.  Do what you must for your own sake.  And by the Stone, take care of yourself until I can return to your side.  That’s an order._

_Love always,_

_Your Dis_

 

* * *

 

Fiona was buried deep in the stacks of the library when she heard the sound of a man’s throat clearing behind her.  She glanced over her shoulder and turned away from the books when she saw who it was.

“Alistair,” she said quietly, giving him a long look.  He had avoided her since that day in the tavern; he had clearly been distressed by their conversation, and she had regretted initiating it at all.  She had not approached him again.

“Fiona,” he said, dipping his head toward her.  She tried to smile at him, but the motion was tentative.

“How are you?” she asked.

Alistair’s hands twisted together, his fingers tangling.  He was nervous.  “It’s been a very odd few weeks,” he said hesitantly.  He looked into her eyes, his gaze familiar and unfamiliar both.  He sighed, letting his hands drop back to his sides.  When he spoke again, the hesitancy had left.  “I’ve been doing some thinking.  I haven’t much time here in Skyhold; we leave for Adamant Fortress in a few days, and we do not know what we’ll find there.”

“It is a long journey to Adamant,” Fiona agreed, “and the road is hard.”  She watched him, and her heart ached for all she had done to him and all she had failed to do.

“We may never get a chance to speak again.  There’s much I’d like to ask of you.”  He sighed.  There was distance in the set of his face, a need to hold her in abeyance, and yet there was forgiveness there too.  She saw it in how his mouth creased in a small smile, the way his eyes softened when he looked at her.  She allowed herself to feel a faint flicker of relief.  

He held out his arm with a gallant flourish.  “Will you walk with me, my lady?”

She slowly linked her arm with his.  He was warm and solid, strong and tall.  Next to him she almost felt young again.  “Of course, Alistair.”  It was good to say his name.

They left the library arm in arm as two strangers, as a mother leaning on her son.  The sensation felt strange, different, new.

It felt hopeful.  Perhaps that was enough.

**Author's Note:**

> I really wish this had somehow made it into the game, or something like it -- simply wasn't fair they could both be at Skyhold and yet never speak. I have too many Alistair feels sometimes :(


End file.
